when it isn't like it should be
by your new girlfriend
Summary: When stiller racing offered Barney the chance to be her boyfriend Sam Hooker's spotter she accepted. She thought she could have her cake and eat it too but she had no idea she would be so wrong. BarneyHooker. Set between metro girl and motor mouth.
1. Chapter 1

There is a fool proof theory I've had in my life for years. It has stood the test of time as far as I'm concerned and even lead me to where I am right now. Not that where I am is that great but being a grease monkey sure beats that desk job I had. Anyway that theory I was talking about? Its simple really if I wake up in the morning and the sun is shining through the curtains I know that the day is going to be decent. Maybe not good and rarely is it find a hundred dollars on the sidewalk great but nothing too bad happens either. On the other hand when I wake up to anything from monsoon rain pounding the windows to a light drizzle I know to pull those covers up over my blonde head and hide away for the day if I can. The problem is I rarely can. Instead I waste a perfectly good day with the worst imaginable luck. I'm not talking lose contact in the sink bad luck either. It's always break the heel of your favorite shoes on the pavement while simultaneously getting drenched by a moron in a taxicab driving through a pot hole full of water bad luck. Today was one of those days I just wanted to hide away in a nice warm bed the problem was I had a race track to get to and the vibrating phone on my desk only reminded me of this.

My name is Alexandra Barnaby and I was seriously late for the work session preceding the first race to be held at Talladega. Recently I was offered a position by Stiller Racing which I grabbed up in a minute. I should have looked for the catch but working around a speedway was my equivalent of Paris Hilton getting the latest Louis V purse two years before its launch. Before I give away the big punch line I should back things up a little bit. Last year my brother "Wild" Bill went missing and I was desperate to find him. This was when I got caught up in a fast paced romance with NASCAR driver Sam Hooker. To the racing world he's basically a rock star so I mostly blame my brother for having to deal with Hooker. Anyway before Hooker I was the sensible child. I went to college and got a degree in engineering then I worked for an insurance company nice and safe behind a desk all day. Pre-Hooker Bill was the loose cannon. Hooker changed a lot of things but like I said I blame Bill too. As for that catch? I was working as a spotter for Hooker meaning half the year I was the only bleached blonde person standing on top of the flat roof of any given speedway whispering in Hooker's ear what he can't see for himself on the track.

Anyone red blooded woman would die for the chance to be that person and heck maybe even a guy or two but there's more to the story than that. For the past few months I'd also been the same bleached blonde, lip glossed woman standing next to Hooker in all those glossy paged magazines his picture graced. You guessed it. For the past few months Hooker and I had been playing house and testing out the whole dating thing. So far it was working but on a day like today anything could happen.

Forgoing my usual routine of brushing my teeth and jumping into a fourty five minute shower I tossed my hair into a fairly decent pony tail and thanked God for small favors. It was days like today I appreciated my lack of curls. I literally ran out of the suit Hooker was staying in almost forgetting it was on the top floor and doing the make up thing on the elevator ride down. I could tell the elevator operator boy was impressed by my utter ability to mascara and white knuckle the handrail at the same time. I have this thing with heights and I have this thing about elevators - both could cause instant death and falling. Not such a pleasant thought but I barely had time for it as I rushed from the lobby and jumped in a waiting taxi. I was in such a hurry I even forgot to do a mini-celebration for my lack of vertigo. It had seemed unimportant in light of my being fifteen minutes late for the test run. I reminded myself to kill Hooker later. I loved my job and I was never late. This didn't look good for me being the first month and all. It didn't help that I was the only girl [I'm pretty sure I was the only girl in my particular field.

A mere fifteen minutes later I was standing in the infield with the rest of the male dominated crew. Today I was sporting the standard uniform of tight black jeans and the white Stiller Racing tee shirt trimmed in black and gold. Embroidered across the back were the words MOTOR MOUTH and across the front was the Stiller emblem. If not for the hair and makeup I would have fit in quite well with the boys who surrounded me. As it was I could hardly pay attention to the conversation and only caught snippets of whatever it was Nick Shrin was talking about. He was a fellow employee of Stiller Racing and drove the yellow-and-red car sponsored by Yum Yum Cakes. There was one more person missing and I had an inkling I knew where he was. I had arrived just in time to catch a red haired woman wearing a cheap suit with a pen and paper in hand swing her ass on patent pumps into the garage. I had a feeling exactly where she was swinging her ass to and it didn't quite give me the warm and fuzzies inside.

"Barney?"

"What?" I snapped at whoever had dared to snap the murderous thoughts I had just been having from my head. I know interviews are part of the job but that doesn't mean I have to like it. I know I should trust Hooker and his judgment but I knew them both and I knew them well.

"You okay? Cause the way you been wringing that program kind of makes me want to take a few steps back."

The interruption had come from Jefferson Davis Warner better known to the race community as Gobbles. Apparently he got the name when he was still a kid and always the first in line at lunch. Now a days he looked more like a cross between a fuzzy baby bird and an oversized puppy dog but in an endearing sort of way. He was the spotter for Nick Shrin and like the good driver he was Nick was standing next to his spotter. Mine was chatting up Ms. Plastic Surgery Bimbo just beyond the opening of the garage door. I could just feel it and if that wasn't enough then woman's intuition covered the rest. There was the distinctive sound of shredding paper as these thoughts rushed through my head and I looked down a little startled. I'd thought Gobbles had been kidding about the program it was nine glossy pages thick and I could hardly tear it on my best day. Now it was an almost indistinguishable mess of torn paper and permanently creased pages. Looking a bit sheepish I excused myself from the group and discreetly disposed of the program in the nearest trash can. Away from the guys I couldn't help but take the chance to see what Hooker and the bimbette were up to. Mostly obscured by a hauler belonging to a driver I had never met before I listened intently for any odd noises coming from the garage.

It was hard to hear over the clank of tools and deafening roar of motors but my intuition had rarely failed me before. It had lead me all the way to Miami for goodness sakes and to Bill. If it could do that then I had no reason to believe that it was wrong about Miss Thing in the cheap suit. And though I very much wanted to believe it was the out of place high pitched giggle I heard next confirmed my suspicions - Hooker was working his southern charm on the local newspaper writer. It was hard to tell if she was even legit I had seen some talented pit lizards in my short time here. Who knew to what new lows they could reach. I was about to turn on my heel and preform a rather grand storm away when I noticed Hooker and the reporter walking towards me. There were only two options for me at this point and despite my desire not to see either of them diving under a hauler was firmly against my religion. The only thing left to do was feign ignorance and walk right for them. Maybe I could weasel by into the garage. A revving engine and the smell of oil had always had a way of calming me down.

Despite the drizzle that had steadily been falling through the humid hair for upwards of an hour now I thought that today would prove my theory wrong. I could practically see myself walking through the door of the garage without be disturbed. I could feel the cool metal of a wrench in my hand [not that they would ever give me one but a girl can dream. And then it all popped before my eyes as I felt the very familiar weight of an arm around my shoulders and smelled the very familiar scent of cologne and car that could only belong to one very familiar man. I chanced a look around and noticed the cheap journalist who had occupied my thoughts earlier and knew that today was not going to be the day I broke the curse. The so sickeningly sweet it could only be fake smile on her face was enough to prove that much.

"Just the girl I was looking for." Hooker said his Texas drawl firmly in place. I knew that drawl anywhere and I knew there were two occasions he put it to good use. One of them was definitely out of the picture being that we were standing in the middle of a raceway with dozens of people standing around. The other I couldn't think about right now without turning the red head into something similar to the program from earlier. "I was just telling Sheila here that we were all going to Nikki's when we were done here for the day."

I opened my mouth to speak and closed it again. Hooker had done a lot of stupid things in the short amount of time we had been dating but this had to take the cake. He couldn't be serious. In fact, I had myself half convinced that he was going to declare it a joke when they started talking times. There was another of those ear splitting giggles and Sheila playfully slapped Hooker like he was the funniest person she had ever heard. I knew Hooker's jokes well and they were easily the stupidest I had ever heard. Even the guys only laughed at them to be good sports.

"Right." I said hands on hips literally biting my tongue so hard I thought it might bleed. "I would love to stay and chat but I have things to do."

It may have come out a little more forcefully than expected but I was sure the doe eyed look Sheila gave me was fake. Merely for the benefit of the driver in front of her. It was no secret that Hooker and I were romantically involved. Stevie Dicks had blown the cover off of that one a few months back. It was all down hill from there. I quickly ducked under Hooker's arm and walked with determination. I wanted as much space between me and them as I could get before I turned around and decided that beating Sheila was what I really wanted to do. I was half way to my goal when Hooker half walked, half jogged to my side easily keeping pace with his long legs. Sometimes the boy just couldn't take a hint.

"That wasn't very nice of ya darlin'." Hooker said an amused look on his face. If looks could kill he would have been a dead man. The one I gave to him could have made a giant lion whimper in the corner.

"Don't you darlin' me." I told Hooker not slowing my pace one bit. I was determined to get away from him and sooner or later I knew I would get my chance. He could only go so far before the car would be ready and then it was time for the photo op. As last years winner he was obligated. I could be half way to home by then.

"Don't tell me you're angry about Sheila." He said daring to give a chuckle at the thought. "C'mon this is all a part of the job. Its just a few business drinks. And you'll all be there. Its not like its a date she knows that."

My response to Hooker was an annoyed growl and that was when I felt it. Someone had driven their little fixed up golf cart right through the mud beside us and as luck would have it I was the one who was sprayed. It was just the hem of my jeans but it was enough. Like I often say - things could only go down hill from there. As I stormed off to the hauler I could hear Hooker laughing behind me. He always found things like this amusing. He was never on the receiving end of things like this.


	2. Chapter 2

-1By six o'clock the rain was no longer a drizzle and was proving quite relentless as it pooled on the pavement and seeped under the garage door. I pulled myself out from under the hood of my brother's latest project and blew my hair out of my face, I muttered a few words that would have been page six worthy and cursed my brother for his absence. The truth is that I don't mind the fact that my brother isn't helping me out, he was always better at driving cars while I fixed them. I was still furious at Hooker and taking it out on everything, but not even slaving away under a car for four hours was going to be able to keep me out of the house forever, I would have to face the music eventually. The problem was that while I was used to roaming around until I could stomach seeing Hooker's face without wanting to throw my hair dryer at him, I was avoiding him for another reason tonight -- I didn't want to go to that stupid function at Nikki's. He sure knew how to turn a laid back get together into a worthless night out.

Wiping the grease off my arms the best that I could I shrugged into my jacket and phoned for a cab. I watched Arn walk the short distance to his apartment next to the garage and waved to him when he turned back to see if I had moved on yet. I knew he wasn't checking to see if I was there because he was worried, he was checking to see if I needed a ride even though I had already declined his offer two or three times that night. I looked back at the street and pushed up against the building the best that I could to avoid the droplets coming off of the awning and pulled my coat a little tighter around my body praying for warmth I knew wouldn't come. By the time I saw the yellow paint of the taxi cab I was drenched from head to toe, my bleached blonde locks plastered to my face in a great impression of a wet dog.

I tried not to touch anything as I slid into the backseat and closed the door, ignoring the shiver I was sure I had developed. The cabbie was twenty Twinkies short of slim and smelled like he hadn't taken a proper bath in months. I tried to avoid talking to him at all if I could help it and stared determinedly out of my window at the dismal gray city passing me by. I was trying to block out the sound of his obnoxious voice as he insisted I pay my far before I exited the car in a voice that sounded as though he was talking out of his nose. I nodded as politely as I could avoiding any real eye contact knowing that there was a very real chance I would wring his neck if I did. And when we pulled up to the front of the extremely tall apartment building I was currently living in I tossed the money through the window without waiting to see his hand come up. I only hoped he would se it to turn on his water and take the nice long shower he desperately needed. Heck even I desperately needed one after my day from hell and bathed twice a day sometimes.

Thoughts of fragrant white bubbles and jasmine bath oil with chocolate covered strawberries from room service and an ice cold beer were all that kept me going as I ran from the idled car to the stairs. There was no way I could chance a risky ride on an elevator on a day like today and at the very least I figured the activity would keep me warm, even the stitch that developed in my side half way up the second flight wasn't so bad. Don't get me wrong I'm not a big woman, in fact I'm damn small for the way I eat but I'm not in any kind of shape. I consider exercise walking in high heels and I don't even do that on a very regular basis. My metabolism just handles barbeque and beer better than the average woman's would. This was of course my favorite thing about the race season starting up again as well and made a mental note to figure out when the next get together would happen -- bimbo free of course.

By the time I opened the door and locked it behind me I had made up my mind that I would skip the soirée at Nikki's that was set to have started an hour ago and avoid answering any calls from Hooker. I would be damn sure to be asleep by the time he waltz (or stumbled) in the door at half past midnight, and ignore him in the morning when he wanted to make it up to me by hiding from the Miami heat all morning. He would realize what a jerk he had been and never look at another woman again. Of course, this would never happen anywhere outside of my head, but a girl can dream and at least some of it would be true. I _could_ ignore Hooker and I _could _be asleep before he got home, but he had a rebound rate of .02 seconds before he was back doing the next jack ass thing.

I was so immersed in this little reverie that I had walked to the bathroom, poured in the essentials, and was digging around for that lone beer that might have escaped consumption the night before without realizing there was anything out of place in the apartment. It was only after writing a reminder to buy more beer and dialing room service to have one brought up that I noticed an eerily familiar black garment bag draped over the back of the chair. I knew it was a garment bag on account of the fact that it was too flat to hide a body, besides I found it highly unlikely that Hooker had killed anybody and stashed them in his apartment. He had a terrible temper and I was only hesitant to unzip the package because I knew his sense of style was worst.

I paced back and forth in front of the bag for a full ten minutes while an internal battle waged inside. On the one hand I had already decided not to go, room service was ordered, and my bath was being drawn, but on the other hand there was a mystery item hanging in front of me and I needed to know what it was. However, the downside being that if it wasn't horrendous I would want to wear it and possibly be forced to go out which I had sworn not to do. I retreated to the counter and leaned against it while an imaginary clocked ticked in my head before I walked to the bag and tore down the zipper. I had never been good at waiting for surprises and curiosity had gotten the better of me on more than one occasion. I was shocked to see the simple cocktail dress inside and felt the sleek black material with my hands.

In a flurry of motion that would have left anyone else feeling rather dizzy I let the idea of a nice hot bath go and called a cab to pick me up in front of the covered walk way of the hotel. I tugged the clingy black dress over my head and accessorized with a pair of shoes sans panty hose or purse for two reasons: a) I didn't want to risk getting a run in the few pairs that I owned and b) tonight Hooker could pay, he owed me. I did the make up thing as minimally as I could get away with and expertly turned on five inch spike heels, very fitting for the dress. With that I did a brisk walk out the door and only took the elevator to the lobby because I knew I had too in my shoes.

During the entire cab ride I swore to myself that I wasn't going there for Hooker. I was not going to be his little lap dog for the night, his favorite accessory while people schmoozed him with all their talk of fame and fortune. Nope, it wasn't going to happen. I would make a quiet entrance, I would find one of the guys, I would put a drink on Hooker's tab, and I would let him come to me. I might even throw in a little flirting with the random race car driver that had shown up from out of town for the sheer benefit of driving him crazy. Under no circumstances would I look for him, he had his own brand of schmoozing he would have to do.

Not fifteen minutes later all those thoughts fled my mind as I walked into the bar and did what I swore not to do, I looked for Hooker. And when I saw him draped all over that venomous red head I rocketed right past furious and crash landed on pissed off. I was so sure he would have been awaiting my arrival no matter how silly of a notion it was that this behavior was way too much. I stormed to the bar and ordered a beer, not the light fluffy kind most girls favored but the real deal calories included amber gold. I even lowered my standards momentarily and entertained myself with a heavily flirtatious conversation with the first rookie to saunter up to the counter and risk the wrath of Barney. He knew no better and I had never met him, but I could just imagine what the other guys around him might have said. I wasn't known to be the kind of girl to enjoy being pawed and eyed like a raw steak for the taking, but I had to admit as far as revenge went this was kind of nice.

I faked stifling a yawn and looked over my shoulder to where I knew Hooker was standing, smiling inside when our eyes locked. I knew that look anywhere and I knew he knew what was going on, but I was having too much fun to stop. I merely grinned at him and gave a little finger wave. His loss, but I knew we would go rounds later. Truth was as far as couples went we were a fairly bad match but it was the fun, friendly times that pulled us through. And I just couldn't help what he drove me to do. It's not my fault he got sucked in by a vamp and I was free to mingle, was it?


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Note: please keep in mind that I haven't read this series in a while I lost my books : ( this is my attempt at an updated though I'm not sure I'm quite satisfied with it. Please review, I hope it hasn't been too long for the barney/hooker readers to still be around._

Turns out I wasn't as free to mingle as I thought. Just as I had uttered those first harmless, flirty words and gotten my hands on that nice little mixed drink that Nikki's made so well I felt the weight of a heavy arm across my shoulders. I looked up innocently at Hooker and took that first sweet drink through my brightly colored straw knowing that at the very least I could still appeal to his jealous side, or was it at the very least I was still enough to drag him away from bimbettes? I'd like to think it was the last one, but you can never be sure with Hooker, he's too much of a man's man for that.

"Darlin'," He said his accent as strong as ever though not at all as out of place as expected in a bar as opposite of southern as you can get. And in that single word there was so much more said than could have ever been conveyed in words.

"Join us, Justin was just telling me of his um….desire to win the cup this year." I said as if there was nothing wrong with the fact that I had openly flirted with another driver and done so in front of his face.

"James," The driver corrected me in a forced pleasant voice. I could not blame him for his hating me and the trick that I had played on him, then he must have known who I was. Ours was a relationship splashed across magazines. Hooker's publicist had seen to that. "And I think my sponsor is waving me over."

With that he was gone and hardly heard the muttered apology that I gave him. Though in truth I had never intended much when I had sat down next to him, my goal had been reached. Not that I was cruel by any means but I was intending to show Hooker just how self reliant I could be. I was not some damsel in distress that needed him to help me through day to day or that relied on him like a little puppy and simply had to be hanging off his arm I was so dazzled. In fact, I was far from that girl and I wanted to show him that I could just as easily turn my attention to any number of men just as he could do with women, as he often did just for "show" or "good manners" as he called it. I often told him that it was all the same no matter what fancy word you put on it. We had argued about this many times before.

"Oh come on Hooker it was just a conversation," I told him with one of those ever famous eye rolls. "Not every man is the enemy. Besides you were previously engaged by Miss Thing over there."

He fixed me with that world famous Hooker gaze of disbelief as I waved my hand toward the woman. Hands on his hips he looked from my forced calm face to the expectant red head eyeing him hungrily and back again. Then ever so slowly an amused smile crossed his lips and he pulled me into a one armed hug with a bark of laughter. I could never quite understand or predict what would come from Hooker so I sat in a rather stunned silence. I was trying to make him jealous and he laughed at me? T he world was far from a fair place.

"Aw Sweetheart there's no need to be jealous," He said in a voice that was more amused than reassuring. "You know you're the only girl for me."

I could hardly help the urge to laugh out loud that rippled through my body. I was hardly the only girl for him which was why I was constantly watching him around other girls. It wasn't a secret that I could be a bit jealous, it's just that I know the nature of girls and they're rather catty at best. In fact, there is this whole new thrill added when a girl finds out she has snagged the wandering eye of a taken man, it's almost like the challenge of the catch has been intensified. Girls are all just as bad as each other, that's why I always prefer to hang out with boys. Boys are so much more simple in a complex sort of way.

"Uh huh," I said simply with another eye roll. It was childish and the sort of behavior that had caused arguments before, but it seemed that Hooker wasn't going to rise to the bait tonight. At least not in front of all of his peers and fellow drivers, not while the press was just waiting to snag a new story now that the scandal of his hooking up with his spotter was dying down. Unless he merely found amusement in my dislike for the situation and the girl, that could have very well been the situation.

Whatever the case he chuckled again and easily glided me off the barstool and through the crowd that had started to gather in the upscale bar. I took another drink from my oversized glass thinking that I really should have ordered something stronger. I knew that I could hardly stomach the company which I would be forced to keep now that he had been securely at his side. At times I felt like his own little accessory, like one of those poor miniature dogs all the celebrities are toting around. Not a pleasing comparison, but as always I was his favorite thing to have around while he talked about his career. He might make mention of me once or twice for the sheer benefit of the crowd, but it was never long lived. The media wanted to know about his career, ambitions, and whether or not he would win the whole shebang this year. His answer was always yes.

"Alexandra," The red head said extending a rather lavishly decorated hand in my direction. "It seems I have the pleasure of your company again."

I gritted my teeth at the use of my given name and smiled in a way that I hoped portrayed more than a great dislike. It felt like a grimace much more than a smile to me, "So it seems," I said anything but warmly. I could see past all the charms and wit and nice words that she used. It was anything but her pleasure to see me and if not, under different circumstances I would have seen to the fact that it would be without a doubt unpleasant.

"Barney," Hooker said in a warning tone that none but me would have recognized. I realized that I was just as annoyed by his use of my adoptive nickname as I was with her use of my given. There was just something about her that just didn't sit right with me. I would listen to none and tuned out most of her conversation as they chatted about the ever predictable and utterly tiresome racing career he had. Not that I didn't love racing but Hooker was by far the best driver on the track, of course he wouldn't phase out or come in anything but first. I figured it was my undying faith in his talent and my complete trust in my own eyes that kept this opinion about me and so kept me in his favor above the pit lizards. I stifled a yawn somewhere around midnight and tried to hide it in Hooker's shoulder. I hadn't meant to interrupt the conversation but I'm sure the unexpected and unintended nuzzle had grabbed his attention.

"Sorry," I muttered not apologetically, but because I had interrupted him mid-sentence with a sports writer that ESPN had sent down to cover the first race of the pre-season. Of course, the vamp was still there looking as innocent as ever, but she had been eclipsed by this writer for now. He was, after all, writing for a major sports magazine while she was simply local news. Hooker knew where the gold was and he never passed an opportunity to grab it. "I'm just a little tired I guess."

"It's quite alright we're about done here anyway," The writer said checking his own watch and jotting down just a few more notes. "See you on the track."

He nodded to Hooker and walked off into the distance. Hooker looked down at me and for a moment I thought that I had managed to convince him to take me to the apartment without even having to try. Of course, I should have once again realized that it was far from the case and my luck was far from that great.

"If you'll excuse us," He told the red head before he lead me through the crowd and out the front door. The line to get in was still wrapped around the building despite the fact that closing time was in two short hours. "Let me get you a cab. I've still got a little business to attend to here."

"I bet," I said my eyes flashing anger as I pulled away from his grip. I could hear the sudden silence from the crowd of people but I hardly cared as I stood glowering waiting for a cab to pull up. "And I can get my own cab." I added arms crossed, angry that he was so stuck on the girl in the short skirt that I could have murdered him. I had every intention of packing up my stuff and insisting on my own hotel room when I finally got back. I wouldn't even mind having to share with one of the other guys.

"Barney," He said amusement clearly gone but not yet pushed to the limit where he would rant and rave in front of anyone.

"Don't you Barney me," I told him impatiently as a cab finally slowed to a stop. I would have been smart to let the fight die there but I was too angry. I might have walked out on him at the bar, but the fight was far from over. I could feel my own temper rise as I watched him watch back into the bar.


End file.
